"Hmpf. And I'm the one who needs to be watched?" Verity pulls a face - touched when Ratchet held her but as her default setting was prickly she was like a cat pretending it didn't appreciate the affection.

"Put me down - I'm not a little kid that needs a boost every time it has a tantrum." Verity was in higher spirits when she said that, although her argument was somewhat dampened by how she squirmed out of his arms much like an agitated child. And, if she really wanted to think too long about the ludicrous lifespan of Cybertronians, she was a child. At least with Ratchet the age disparity didn't feel like he was talking down to her.

Joints pop as she stretches her arms up after she settles back on the desk, mindful of how she sits on her still healing ankle if just for Ratchet's sake.

"Optimus alluded to as much, but I can always just jack the details from after-action reviews with sloppy encryption. And speaking of worrying..."

Verity looks down at Ratchet's leg - or rather, the lack there of, then back him. Then back at his leg and back at him again. The comment on if and when he would see to his leg's repairs non verbalised but transparent.